Wednesday, April 3rd, 2013
2 years, 4 months.
These days, as I go through the dozens of pictures I take of you in a week’s time, it’s getting pretty difficult to find ones of you without your black monster truck.
It must have been fate that you received a duplicate Christmas gift, prompting Mommy and me to take you to the toy store and let you exchange it for whatever your heart desired.
At the very sophisticated Brilliant Sky toy store, which I jokingly refer to as a toy store for “gifted” kids, you appropriately chose… a black monster truck.
Tonight after dinner we let you indulge a little bit in some of your hard-earned Easter candy, which included some of Annie’s Bunny Fruit Snacks.
After enjoying some for yourself, you placed 3 of them in the cab of your monster truck and let them drive around 5 others in the bed of the truck.
Your relationship with your monster truck is starting to seem a little bromantic, even.
If you enjoy a snack or a treat, so does your monster truck. Not only do you eat with it, you sleep with it.
All of your favorite shirts have a monster truck on them.
As we drive together to school and work every morning, you fantasize about every “monster truck” (F-150′s with big tires) you see.
“That’s a monster truck! I drive it!”
Needless to say, we see a lot of “monster trucks” as we drive a total of an hour a day through the very manly city of Nashville, Tennessee.
Yesterday you saw a pick-up on truck on the side of the road. Your response:
“Oh no! His wheel fall off? He fix it?”
Because of the fact that part of your morning routine is to watch clips of monster trucks on YouTube, and sometimes when they flip over, one of their wheels flies off, you therefore assume that any time that any truck is pulled off to the side of the road, that guarantees that one of the truck’s wheels fell off.
Every morning as I unbuckle you from your car seat, you reluctantly let go of your monster truck and set it down on the empty seat next to you. “I play with my truck when you get back?”
Because of that, I try to make a habit of when I pick you up in the afternoon from daycare, to have the truck in my hand as soon as you see me.
There’s just somethin’ ’bout a truck and a 2 year-old boy.
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